President Midoriya!
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Universe found- [Code name:-Branch Timeline] [Powers:-Quirks]
The scene opens with a news broadcast from a program calledDaily Morning News.
"Ugh, not this news channel," Aizawa groaned, his expression darkening as he shot a glare at the screen. "These hacks care more about views and engagement than actual journalism. They'll run with any baseless rumor and spin it as legitimate, hard-hitting news."
"Right? They're the worst," Nemuri scoffed, arms crossed as she eyed the broadcast with equal disgust. "According to them, I've slept with half the hero community—because, apparently, being a little bold and confident woman means I must be sleeping around." She let out a sharp, irritated sigh. "And don't even get me started on those ridiculous, cherry-picked street interviews they aired just to smear my name."
She shook her head, frustration evident in the tension in her shoulders. "It wasn't until Nezu threatened legal action that they finally backed off. And even then? Not a single retraction. No apology. Nothing."
Her fingers drummed against her arm as she huffed. "God, I hate the media."
"Good Morning Japan," the first announcer greeted the audience. "Welcome to Daily Morning News. Anticipation could be felt in the air as just one day remains before our first-ever democratic election for the position of President of the Hero Public Safety Commission."
"Indeed, the anticipation is quite natural since it is the first time since the establishment of the Hero Public Safety Commission, that people will be allowed to choose who watches over the heroes," the second announcer added.
"However, the stakes for whichever candidate wins this election will be quite high this time, considering the fiasco that the last President caused," the first announcer said.
"What!?" Hawks blurted out, his golden eyes widening in genuine shock. "You're telling me we're actually having a democratic election for the HPSC President? Not just handing the position over to the assistant like we always do?" He let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "Wow. Never thought I'd see the day."
"Yeah, no kidding," Kaina muttered, still processing the news. She leaned back, crossing her arms as a wry smirk tugged at her lips. "That last president must have really screwed up—like, epically—to piss off the government this much. I mean, they don't just make changes like this on a whim."
She exhaled sharply, glancing at Hawks. "Makes me wonder what kind of massive fuck up led to this."
"Speaking of candidates, if you look at the statistics right now, you will see that it's anyone's race among all the candidates running for the position," the second announcer said, as a graphic displaying the current poll numbers appeared on the screen. "But a certain other candidate should be getting at least one vote for most adorable."
The broadcast then cut to footage of Izuku—who appeared to be in his mid-twenties—meeting with injured heroes in a hospital, engaging them in conversation.
"And there it is—that infuriating, condescending tone," Nemuri muttered, her expression twisting in disgust as she glared at the announcer on the screen. She let out an exasperated sigh, shaking her head before turning to Izuku. "Well, at least in that universe, you seem to be doing pretty well for yourself—running for president and all."
"Yeah, looks like you're out there making big moves, Deku!" Ochako grinned, throwing him an encouraging thumbs-up. "Guess we already know who's getting our vote."
"I don't know about voting," Shigaraki drawled, his lips curling into a wicked grin. "But I sure as hell wouldn't mind sending an assassin after that infuriating little brat!" He let out a low, sinister cackle, clearly enjoying the thought, earning a few disapproving glares from Izuku's friends.
"The FFA aka Freedom for All party candidate's still in the race,and you just gotta love him for that," the second announcer said, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Look at him, waving his tiny, quirkless hands. Isn't that just precious? Little jackass."
"Uh, yeah, actually, I think we have audio from his latest speech," the first announcer said with a smirk. He then made a poor attempt at mimicking Izuku's voice. "Aw, geez. Aw, man. I'm totally gonna lose the election and stuff," before both announcers burst into laughter.
"First of all, mocking someone for their Quirk status is beyond disgusting," Momo huffed, crossing her arms as she shot a disapproving glare at the screen. "Ridiculing Izuku over something he has no control over? Completely uncalled for."
With a softer expression, she turned to Izuku. "And... it seems you don't have a Quirk in this world?"
"Yeah... that seems to be the case," Izuku admitted awkwardly, shifting uncomfortably as he avoided her gaze.
Momo frowned slightly. Something about his reaction didn't sit right with her, but she chose not to press the issue. At least, not yet.
Meanwhile, All For One sat back, a sinister smile stretching across his face. Oh, how he longed to spill the boy's secret—to shatter the carefully constructed illusion that Midoriya and All Might had built around him. But he held his tongue, his patience winning out.
He knew better than to interfere. One of these worlds would inevitably expose the truth for him. And when that moment arrived?
He'd simply sit back and enjoy the shit show that follows.
The scene shifted to FFA's party office, where campaign posters were plastered across nearly every wall. All around the room staff members bustled about, working on various tasks. The floor was littered with scrap paper, rubber bands, and paper clips—a clear sign of last-minute chaos.
"Wow... for someone supposedly in an unwinnable position, there's a lot of work going on here," Mina mused, eyes scanning the bustling campaign headquarters on the screen. "Kinda makes you wonder if they really think he's got no chance."
"Midoriya's chances of winning have little to do with the amount of effort being poured into his campaign," Ectoplasm explained. "The money funneled into just one political race is staggering. To put it in perspective, the funds spent on a single campaign could comfortably sustain a family of four for years—and that's without them needing to cut corners or live modestly. Even if they were generous with their spending, their quality of life wouldn't take a single hit."
Mina blinked. "Jeez. And here I thought pro hero sponsorships were ridiculous."
"Politics operates on an entirely different level," Ectoplasm replied. "And unfortunately, money often speaks louder than anything else."
Currently, Izuku was on his fifth cup of coffee, watching Daily Morning News as they mocked him. Beside him stood Hitoshi Shinso, his campaign manager, wearing an ID badge that displayed his name and title.
"Oh no. Not again," Shinso groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as if warding off an impending headache. "I've got a bad feeling about this... something tells me my counterpart is about to go through bad."
"Hmm?" Eri tilted her head, blinking up at him in confusion before her expression hardened. "And why do you say that?" Her crimson eyes narrowed, a small tick mark appearing on her forehead. "You're not making fun of my brother, are you?"
Shinso let out a dry sigh, waving a hand dismissively. "No, I'm not," he deadpanned. "I'm saying it because the last time I showed up in one of these, your brother was some weird cult leader who nearly got my counterpart squashed by a falling helicopter—right before abducting him."
"We had a good run, sir, but I think it's time to pull out of the race," Hitoshi said with a sigh while rubbing the back of his head.
But instead of looking discouraged, Izuku smirked confidently. "I feel pretty confident about tonight's debate," he said, taking another sip of coffee.
"You shouldn't, sir," Hitoshi replied flatly, frustration evident on his face. "You should be terrified."
Izuku simply chuckled, clapping Hitoshi on the shoulder. "Maybe you should find a little faith, young man," he said before casually handing Hitoshi his empty cup and walking away.
"You don't pay me to have faith," Hitoshi grumbled, then called after him, "And we're the same age!"
"Wow, talk about stellar moral support," Setsuna drawled out sarcastically before giving Shinso a wry look. "No offense, buddy, but I don't think you're cut out to be a campaign manager."
Shinso didn't even flinch. "I don't care what you think about my counterpart's approach," he countered, voice flat. "He's not the type to sugarcoat reality just to make Midoriya feel better—or worse, to pad his own pockets."
"Not giving false hope is one thing, but outright discouraging your boss is another," Ochako argued. "As Deku's counterpart said, you should have faith in him!"
"Yeah, exactly!" Setsuna smirked, jabbing a thumb at Ochako. "What's the point of having a campaign manager who doesn't back their own candidate?"
Shinso let out a tired sigh, waving a hand dismissively. "People like us don't run on empty promises and feel-good speeches," he said coolly. "We deal in hard, cold truth. That's what gets results."
"Maybe," Ochako admitted, folding her arms. "But sometimes? A little faith goes a long way."
The scene shifted to the debate stage, where Izuku stood behind a podium next to his opponent. The discussion moderator sat across from them, poised to ask the next question.
"Mr. Kubo Mitsuko," the moderator began, turning to the man standing beside Izuku. "How do you plan to address the Hero Public Safety Commission's financial crisis? And how will you ensure that the HPSC can provide heroes with the benefits they deserve, both during and after their service?"
Kubo Mitsuko straightened his posture and flashed a confident smile. "First off, let me just say that I believe this country—and our Hero Commission—is the greatest in the entire world!" The audience erupted in cheers, and Kubo shot Izuku a smug glance, clearly basking in the applause.
A collective eye roll rippled through the audience, many already seeing through Kubo Mitsuko's painfully transparent attempt to score brownie points by showering their nation with empty praise. His smug smile only made it worse.
"Okay, seriously—does anyone know who this guy is?" Mirko asked, arms crossed as her irritation grew the longer she stared at Kubo's smug smile.
Hawks leaned back, lazily twirling a feather between his fingers. "I think I've seen him around once or twice—works in some HPSC department," he said, sounding distinctly unimpressed. Then, with a casual shrug, he added, "And don't worry, I doubt he's evil or anything. Maybe a little corrupt, but otherwise he's just some guy."
"Now, I believe the answer to your question," Kubo Mitsuko chuckled, spreading his arms in a grand gesture. "The answer is simple—transparency, accountability, and a renewed dedication to our heroes! For too long, the previous administration has squandered resources, mismanaged funds, and failed to prioritize the very people who put their lives on the line for us every day!"
He leaned forward, his voice brimming with righteous conviction. "Under my leadership, we will restructure the budget, cut unnecessary bureaucratic red tape, and ensure that every yen is spent where it truly matters—on the heroes and the citizens they protect! No more backroom deals, no more wasted potential. It's time to put the 'safety' back in the Hero Public Safety Commission!"
The audience roared with approval, clapping and cheering at his seemingly bold stance. Meanwhile, Kubo smirked, satisfied with how easily he had fed them empty promises wrapped in patriotic fervor.
"This guy is so fucking annoying!" Shigaraki growled, his fingers twitching as he furiously scratched at his neck. His eyes burned with frustration as he glared at the screen. "That's it! The second we're free from this stupidity, I'm turning this moron to dust."
"Great idea," Hawks chimed in smoothly, flashing an easy-going smile. "Just be sure to give us a heads-up on when and where you plan to do it, so we can be there to arrest you."
Shigaraki's eye twitched. "Like hell I'd ever let myself get caught by heroes!" he snapped, his voice rising in anger—only to be completely and utterly ignored, which only fueled his rage even more.
Meanwhile, backstage, Hitoshi frowned as he anxiously chewed on his nails. "Can we fact-check that, please?" he asked his assistant before sighing and waving a hand dismissively.
"Never mind. Who am I kidding?" He let out a defeated chuckle. "This race is over."
"You know, kid, you could really use some positivity in your life," Yu Takeyama said, shaking her head while tutting at Shinso. "In fact, Emi, why don't you take him under your wing?"
Shinso immediately stiffened, looking at Yu with wide eyes.
"You know what?" Emi Fukukado—better known as the ever-cheerful Smile Hero, Ms. Joke—grinned, her eyes practically twinkling with mischief. "That doesn't sound like a bad idea at all!" She turned to Shinso, her excitement only growing. "Don't worry, kid—we're gonna have so much fun together!" She threw a thumbs-up his way, her enthusiasm practically radiating off her.
Shinso, meanwhile, looked like he had just been handed a death sentence. His eyes widened in sheer horror as he clutched his head, already envisioning the chaotic, laughter-filled hell that awaited him.
Aizawa, watching from the sidelines, took one look at Shinso's stricken expression and exhaled through his nose. "Stay strong, kid," he muttered under his breath, giving him the smallest nod of quiet sympathy.
Back on the stage, the moderator nodded at Kubo Mitsuko while noting something on his tablet before the moderator barely concealed his smirk as he turned to Izuku, eyes gleaming with thinly veiled condescension. "Mr. Midoriya," he began, voice laced with feigned sympathy, "as someone who is, well... Quirkless yourself, I'm sure you understand the unique challenges that come with lacking a gift that so many consider essential to our society."
He let the words linger, allowing murmurs to ripple through the audience before pressing on. "With that in mind, how do you respond to the growing crisis we're facing? The number of displaced Quirkless individuals and those with... let's say, less desirable Quirks, is skyrocketing—while at the same time, those with heroic Quirks and abilities that actually contribute to society are expressing record levels of dissatisfaction. The gap between these two groups has never been wider."
Leaning forward, he arched a brow, his tone dripping with mock concern. "So tell us, Mr. Midoriya, how exactly do you plan to fix this fundamental imbalance? Surely, you of all people must have some insight."
"Wow, not biased at all!" Mina huffed, crossing her arms as she glared daggers at the moderator on the screen. "It's like he's actively out to get Izuku—digging for any excuse to drag his name through the mud!"
"He's also deliberately emphasizing Izuku's Quirkless status," Momo added, her frown deepening. "Trying to bait him into saying something that could be twisted against him." She shook her head in frustration. "And did you notice? The question he gave Izuku was way more sensitive and divisive compared to the one he lobbed at the first candidate. There's no way that's a coincidence."
Nezu, watching with quiet disapproval, sighed and shook his head. "It's as clear as day—the moderator's bias stems from Midoriya's Quirkless status." His voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. "It's truly disappointing how this quirkist mindset still lingers in our society, even in modern times. You don't see it as much in major cities, but every now and then... it rears its ugly head."
Izuku took a deep breath, but the confident smile on his face never wavered.
"First of all, I don't see a divide between people with Quirks and those without," he began. "Nor do I agree with labeling certain quirks as 'less desirable' while calling others 'heroic'—"
Before he could finish, Kubo Mitsuko cut him off with a rude remark.
"Oh, what a shocker," Kubo said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, as a ripple of laughter spread through the auditorium.
"Haha! Excellent work, Mr. Kubo! Well done!" Re-Destro laughed, his grin stretching wide with cruel satisfaction. He leaned back, amusement practically radiating off him as he watched the screen.
"Honestly, are we even surprised?" he sneered. "An ungifted freak like him could never comprehend the vast difference between the truly gifted and those who simply exist." He shook his head, his expression dripping with disdain. "Some people are simply born beneath us. And no matter how hard they try, they'll never rise above their station."
"Maybe they couldn't. Maybe they could," Izuku said, his voice calm—almost eerily so—as he locked eyes with Re-Destro. His expression remained unreadable, but there was something in his gaze, something unshakable. "But one thing you can't change... is that they will always be better than people like you—people who hurt others just for their own gain."
Re-Destro let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Ha! Big words coming from a boy who couldn't even handle the amazing gift handed to him on a silver platter." His smirk widened as he leaned forward, voice dripping with condescension. "And tell me, boy, why are you so eager to defend those freaks when you—you, a boy who can shatter icebergs with a flick of your wrist—stand among the gifted?" he asked and smirked in satisfaction when Izuku didn't reply.
However, those who knew Izuku well could see the intensity in his eyes—clear proof that he had plenty to say but was holding himself back for some reason.
"You finished?" Izuku asked, his entire demeanor shifting—his usual confidence hardening into something more serious, more authoritative.
Kubo, who had been ready with another snide remark, quickly swallowed his words. A flicker of uncertainty crossed his face as he wondered how this Quirkless man beside him could intimidate him so easily.
"Oh, this is going to be amazing!" Eri said, leaning forward, anticipation shining in her eyes.
A few people turned to her, blinking in surprise at her enthusiasm. Noticing the puzzled stares, Eri quickly waved her hands, rushing to explain. "It's just... you never see that look on Izu's face very often," she said, her voice brimming with excitement. "And when you do? It's always a delight to watch him in action!"
"As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted," Izuku continued, as by now, the entire auditorium had fallen silent, drawn in by the sudden shift in his demeanor. Izuku let the silence hang for a moment before speaking again, his voice steady, unwavering.
Even in the real world, everyone was caught off guard by the sudden and drastic shift in Izuku's demeanor.
Even Izuku himself looked taken aback, his brows furrowing slightly as he watched his counterpart. There was a flicker of confusion in his expression, like he wasn't quite sure where this newfound edge had come from. But beneath that uncertainty, there was something else—something subtle, yet unmistakable.
He felt a hint of satisfaction deep in his core, unable to deny the slight pleasure at seeing the fire in his other self's eyes.
"The division I see isn't between those with Quirks and those without. It isn't between people with 'heroic' Quirks and those with so-called 'less desirable' ones." He glanced around the room, his gaze sharp. "The real divide is between those who believe this system was built for everyone—and those who know it wasn't."
He took a step forward, his presence commanding. "I see it in our schools, where Quirkless children and those with unconventional quirks are told to know their place, while others are groomed to be the next generation of heroes."
Bakugo shifted uncomfortably in his seat, arms crossing tighter over his chest as the Izuku on screen continued speaking. His words—steady, unwavering—stirred something deep inside him, something Bakugo didn't want to acknowledge.
It reminded him of Aldera Junior High.
Of the way things had always been.
And, whether he liked it or not, it made him wonder—had he, too, been shaped by the same quirkist mindset? Had he, without even thinking, accepted it as the natural order of things?
He didn't have to think too hard to find the answer.
After all, he could still hear their voices—teachers showering him with praise whenever important guests visited, holding him up as the golden example. And at the same time, he could remember how they spoke about others—about students they deemed lesser. Especially Izuku.
Deku.
His gut twisted, but he shoved the thought away before it could dig any deeper. There was no point in dredging up the past. He already knew where that train of thought led—to a truth he had long since accepted. That he had been wrong. And he had already made his choice. to leave all of that behind him.
"I see it in our streets, where the people most in need of protection are ignored because their Quirks don't fit into society's narrow definition of 'useful.' I see it in the workplaces, where heroes with high-profile, flashy Quirks get sponsorships and cushy benefits, while others are left to fend for themselves, overworked and underappreciated."
Re-Destro and the Meta Liberation Army members who shared his ideology sneered at the image of Izuku on the screen. They couldn't fathom why so many people seemed captivated by his words. To them, the truth was simple—self-evident. Those with powerful Quirks were naturally superior, destined to lead and shape society as they saw fit. The weak? They got what they deserved. That was the natural order. Strength dictated authority, and those with lesser Quirks either submitted or perished for daring to challenge it.
As for the Quirkless? The MLA didn't even acknowledge their existence. To them, such people weren't just weak; they were insignificant—less than human. The mere idea that a Quirkless man had the audacity to stand on that stage, spouting ideals that defied everything they stood for, was an insult. It was infuriating. The sight of him, so brazen and unwavering, made their blood boil.
His hands clenched against the podium. "This isn't a problem of Quirkless people 'falling behind' or people with heroic Quirks 'losing satisfaction.' This is a problem of a system that only values power and spectacle, instead of people." He let his words settle before continuing, his voice unwavering.
"Well said, Midoriya," Aizawa nodded, appreciating the words of the Izuku on screen. "Too many kids with strong Quirks buy into the idea of flashy heroism without ever considering the real risks of the job."
"But that doesn't mean you have to push them to the brink of despair just because they don't take your assessment test 'seriously'," Nemuri said dryly, "That permanent black mark you leave on their record isn't exactly well-received in our country—not that I need to remind you that."
Aizawa shrugged, unbothered. "That's how I do things. If they don't like it, they can apply to a different school." His tone was as lazy as ever, completely unaware of a certain rat quietly watching him with sharp eyes.
"But let me make one thing clear—there are more of us who believe in a better future than there are those who want to keep things the way they are. And to those who think they can pit us against each other to maintain their grip on power, I have a message from the people fighting to fix this broken system, from those who still believe in what heroism should be..."
He leaned in slightly, looking directly at the moderator, at Kubo, at every person who had laughed at his expense.
"You're outnumbered."
For a moment, silence hung in the air after Izuku's speech. Then, the crowd erupted into cheers and applause—both from those seated in the auditorium and the countless others watching on screens across the country. Even Kubo and the event moderator were left speechless, unable to come up with a single rebuttal or comeback to his words.
Even in real life, the heroes applauded Izuku's speech, nodding in approval. On the villains' side, reactions were mixed—some sneered in disdain, unimpressed by his words, while others barely spared the screen a glance, uninterested in the events unfolding in this universe.
"Holy shit!" Hitoshi exclaimed, staring at his tablet as Izuku's approval ratings skyrocketed in real-time. "I don't believe it. I—I can't believe it!"
"Ha! I told you—you just have to stay positive!" Yu said, flashing a bright grin. "But seriously, the kid pulled off something impressive. Turning the entire narrative around, from completely against him to entirely in his favor, all in a single speech? That takes skill."
"To be honest, it was a damn good speech," Ryuko admitted, as she nodded in approval. "And you can tell the difference. Compared to the first guy, Midoriya actually meant every word he said. That sincerity? That's what really made the impact. People can feel it when someone genuinely believes in what they're saying."
"I know," Izuku said with a smile as he stepped backstage, walking up to Hitoshi and placing a hand on his shoulder. "That's why you're fired," he added, still smiling, before casually walking off—leaving Hitoshi standing there, completely shell-shocked.
The once-bustling chatter among the heroes abruptly died down, replaced by a heavy silence. Even the villains, some who had barely been paying attention, now looked intrigued. The sudden shift in Izuku's demeanor on-screen had caught them all off guard.
The scene shifted to a press conference where Izuku stood at the podium, taking questions from reporters.
"Yes," he said, pointing to one of them.
"Mr. Midoriya, our research into your past shows that after high school, you completely disappeared from the public eye—only to resurface five years later and establish the Varadian Quirk Consultant Company," the reporter said. "Where were you during that time?"
'Oh? Now this is getting interesting.' All For One smirked to himself, already sensing something intriguing on the horizon. 'It seems the boy society holds up as its shining savior has skeletons in his closet as well. How... delightful.'
Meanwhile, oblivious to the dark thoughts swirling in the supervillain's mind, Ochako was focused on something far more wholesome. She beamed at the screen, her admiration clear. "Honestly, considering how much you help us improve our Quirks, becoming a Quirk Consultant is the perfect alternate career option for you. It just makes sense."
Izuku chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "Thanks, Ochako. I just try to help where I can."
Izuku gave a small smile. "Well, a lot of you might not know this, but during my last year of high school, my mother was killed in a villain attack. That loss had a huge impact on me, and I ended up going on a journey of self-discovery."
The reporter quickly mumbled an apology, but Izuku simply waved it off. "Gosh, that was a weird time," he continued. "I moved around so much it's hard to keep track. But I do remember sleeping on park benches a few times—if that helps," he joked while the crowd erupted into laughter and cheers.
"What!?" Izuku's voice rang out, raw with shock. The weight of the revelation hit him like a freight train, and the once-lively atmosphere around him turned somber in an instant. His breath hitched as he buried his face in his hands, forcing himself to remember—this was just an alternate universe. His mom was still alive. She was safe. He repeated those words like a mantra, trying to steady himself, but the ache in his chest refused to fade.
Then, a warm hand gently rested on his own. Blinking through his swirling emotions, he looked up to find Eri watching him, her crimson eyes filled with quiet concern. "Are you all right?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Izuku took a slow breath, forcing himself to push past the lingering distress. He couldn't let Eri worry. Mustering a smile, he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze in return. "Don't worry," he said, his voice steadier now. "I will be."
Meanwhile, in a dimly lit, nearly empty bar, Hitoshi sat at the counter, a drink in his hand as he watched the press conference on the TV above. "Another one. Please. With less water," he muttered, slamming his glass down on the counter.
"What a dreary place, utterly devoid of any sense of aesthetics," Kurogiri mused, his tone carrying a hint of disdain as he surveyed the scene before him. "No wonder it feels so empty. A lifeless atmosphere, poor attention to detail, and, to top it all off, cheap liquor that insults the very concept of refinement." He let out a low sigh, shaking his head as if personally offended by the establishment's lack of quality.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, Shinso was in the middle of an entirely different kind of suffering—one far worse than bad alcohol. His parents were tearing into him, their frustration clear as they scolded him for turning to drinking after losing his job.
"Honestly, Hitoshi, is this how you deal with your problems? Drowning yourself in alcohol?" his mother chastised, arms crossed in disapproval.
His father wasn't any kinder. "You had potential, and now look at you! Sitting in a run-down bar like some washed-up failure!"
Shinso, slouched over and visibly exhausted, pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. "For the last time," he muttered, barely suppressing his irritation, "that guy on the screen isn't me!" But his words fell on deaf ears as the people around him snickered at his misery.
"Hey, cheer up, pal," the bartender chuckled as he poured Hitoshi another drink. "That Quirkless freak is about to be president." He smirked, setting the glass down. "Imagine this kisser getting blamed for everything." With a laugh, he moved on to another customer, leaving Hitoshi staring at his drink.
"I guess I should've had more faith," Hitoshi muttered with a self-deprecating laugh before downing the rest of his drink.
"Yeah, you should have," Ochako said firmly, her brows furrowed in thought. "But still... something about this doesn't sit right with me." She frowned, her gaze lingering on the screen. "I find it odd that Deku's counterpart would fire Shinso's counterpart over something so minor. Even if it was technically fair, it just feels... off."
She paused for a moment, mulling it over before continuing. "That doesn't really fit with the Deku we've seen on screen so far," she mused, her voice tinged with confusion. "He's seemed like nothing but kind and level-headed so far. So why would he act so harshly over something so small?" Her words echoed the unspoken thoughts of many on the heroes' side.
"It's not faith you need. It's fear."
Hitoshi jolted at the sudden voice in his left ear. Turning, he found a man sitting next to him—Giran, dressed in a large brown trench coat with a matching detective hat.
"Oh, so I'm in this one," Giran muttered, narrowing his eyes at the screen as he took in the sight of his alternate self. A moment later, his expression twisted in disbelief. "And what the hell am I wearing!?" he exclaimed while Detective Tsukauchi looked offended by his words.
Mr. Compress chuckled, clearly amused. "Your fashion crisis aside, that's not the most interesting part here," he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. His sharp gaze remained fixed on the screen as he repeated the words that had caught his attention. "'It's not faith you need. It's fear.' Now that," he mused, "is a rather fascinating sentiment to hear from an underground broker. It makes the whole scenario even more intriguing."
"Who are you?" Hitoshi asked warily.
"Name's Giran, but that's not important," Giran replied, pulling an envelope from his coat and sliding it across the counter. "This, however... this is important."
Hitoshi picked up the envelope, eyeing it suspiciously. "What's this?"
Giran scoffed. "Look at how I'm dressed. What do you think it is?" he said sarcastically before finishing his drink and rising from his seat.
"Oh, of course, my bad," Shinso drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's not like I see a guy dressed in some ridiculous detective cosplay handing me an envelope full of classified secrets every day."
The underground broker's expression darkened. "Watch your tongue, boy," Giran growled, his voice low and dangerous. His sharp eyes glinted with an unspoken threat as glared at the purple-haired boy. "If I wanted to, I could put every single detail of your past and present into the hands of every villain in the country. Then we'll see how well you play hero when you have to watch your back with every step you take."
Shinso stiffened at the threat, while his parents exchanged worried glances, fully aware of their son's dream of becoming a hero.
Before the tension could escalate further, a sharp voice cut through the room like a blade.
"Giran."
Detective Tsukauchi's tone was cold, firm—undeniably authoritative. His piercing gaze locked onto the broker, daring him to test his patience. "Threaten any of the students again, and you'll quickly learn that the only reason you're still enjoying your so-called freedom is because we allow it. But don't make the mistake of thinking your 'help' outweighs the safety of anyone on this side of the barrier."
For a brief moment, silence hung heavy in the air. Then, Giran let out a rough chuckle, waving a dismissive hand. "Yeah, yeah, whatever, detective." His lips curled into a smirk, eyes gleaming with amusement—and confidence. "Not like I need to rely on you for my freedom anymore."
He knew better than to push too far right now, but deep down, he relished the shift in power. As a member of the newly formed Paranormal Liberation Front, the days of fearing government dogs were long behind him.
As Giran turned to leave, he cast a cold, hateful glare at the image of Izuku on the TV.
"It's secrets," he said darkly. "That man's secrets."
With that, he walked out of the bar, muttering under his breath about how his empire had been destroyed—and how he was going to take down the "green freak" himself.
"Looks like that green-haired brat completely outplayed you!" Dabi cackled, jabbing a finger at Giran with a smirk. "And now, what? You're grasping at whatever pathetic little thread you can find, hoping to avenge whatever empire you had."He shook his head, his laughter slow and mocking. "That's just sad, old man."
Hitoshi watched him go before turning his attention back to the envelope. Slowly, he opened it and pulled out a thick stack of papers. As the press conference continued on the TV, he flipped through the documents, his expression shifting from curiosity to pure, unfiltered horror.
By the time he reached the last page, his wide eyes locked onto the screen, staring at Izuku's face with nothing but dread.
"Oh boy," Izuku exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck as he watched the screen. "Looks like I'm the bad guy in this one too."
"That does seem to be the case," Momo said thoughtfully, observing his reaction. "But... you don't seem as bothered by it as before."
Izuku shrugged, offering a small, resigned smile. "I mean, at this point, it'd be pretty stupid to get upset every time I turn up as a villain in one of these universes."
Momo considered his words for a moment before nodding. "That's a good way to look at it," she said with an approving smile, which Izuku returned in kind.
The scene shifted once more to show Izuku stepping out of his office building, flanked by four bodyguards. A massive crowd had gathered on either side of the road, cheering as he walked past, shaking hands and engaging with the people.
"Crazy to think that just a little while ago, he was being mocked on national television as a hopeless candidate with zero chance of getting a single vote," Jiro said, her voice laced with disbelief. She shook her head, still trying to process the rapid shift. "And now? Look at him—being cheered on and practically crowned as the next president of the HSPC." She let out a short laugh, equal parts amused and baffled. "It's fucking bizarre how just a few words completely flipped the support of the masses in his favor."
"Mr. Midoriya! Mr. Midoriya!" a woman in the crowd called out, catching Izuku's attention. He turned toward her with a warm smile. "I named my baby after you! Can you please hold him?" she asked eagerly.
"Of course, ma'am," Izuku replied, gently taking the baby into his arms. He cooed at the infant, his smile growing. "What a cute baby," he said before carefully handing him back.
"Yeah, this is exactly the kind of stupidity that keeps me out of the spotlight in heroics," Aizawa muttered, his tone laced with clear distaste. He crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on the screen with mild irritation. "Who the hell names their kid after some random person they know nothing about?"
Pixie-Bob shot him a side-eye, unimpressed. "You don't have to be so harsh on the lady, you know?" she chided. "It's just something some parents believe—that naming their child after someone famous or successful might help them achieve something similar."
She then turned to Aizawa, giving his perpetually disheveled appearance a slow once-over, her lips curling into a mischievous smirk. "That said..." She tapped a finger against her chin in mock contemplation. "I'd be a little concerned if someone decided to name their kid after you, Eraserhead."
Aizawa's brow twitched in irritation, but he remained silent, choosing instead to glare at her from the corner of his eye. Pixie-Bob on the other hand just chuckled, clearly enjoying his reaction.
Just then, Izuku spotted Hitoshi standing in the crowd and made his way toward him. Hitoshi, however, remained still, his gaze intense as he watched his former boss approach.
"Hey, did you, uh, end up finding a new job?" Izuku asked with an awkward smile, rubbing the back of his head.
"Yeah, I did," Hitoshi said, reaching inside his coat. His expression was unreadable.
"Assassinating you."
Before anyone could react, he pulled out a gun and fired.
"Did I just..." Shinso trailed off, disbelief evident in his eyes. But it wasn't the shock of seeing himself shoot someone in broad daylight that had him stunned—it was the sheer stupidity of his counterpart's actions.
"Who the hell thinks it's a good idea to shoot an influential figure like Midoriya in broad daylight!?" he exclaimed, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. "And even if he had received some kind of dirt on him from Giran, why the hell would he resort to this instead of just handing whatever evidence he had over to the authorities?"
Snipe let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "Not to mention, he failed spectacularly," he added. "Despite being practically breathing down Midoriya's neck, your counterpart only managed to hit him in the shoulder. Sure, it'll leave a mark, but that's about it. Pretty embarrassing for an assassination attempt."
Shinso let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Great... just great," he muttered. "Not only am I a dumbass in this world, but I'm an incompetent dumbass."
The crowd erupted into chaos, screaming Izuku's name as his bodyguards sprang into action. Three of them rushed him away, shielding him from further harm, while the fourth swiftly tased Hitoshi, sending him collapsing to the ground. Within seconds, they grabbed him and shoved him into one of their personal vans before speeding away.
"Strange... where are the police or heroes?" Detective Tsukauchi muttered with a frown. "Midoriya's personal security taking away his assailant doesn't seem all that legal to me."
Gran Torino scoffed, crossing his arms. "Well, we've already established that the brat isn't exactly a model citizen in this universe," he said dryly. "So whatever happened to the guy who tried to attack him? Probably not our biggest concern."
Hitoshi abruptly regained consciousness, his body aching as he lay on the cold floor of a dimly lit room. Blinking against the darkness, he looked up to see one of Izuku's bodyguards glaring down at him.
"Why did you try to assassinate the president?" the bodyguard demanded as Hitoshi unsteadily pushed himself to his feet.
"He already won!?" Hitoshi gasped before collapsing to his knees. "Oh, no..."
"What the hell did you expect?" Shinso asked, his tone laced with irritation as he glared at his counterpart like he was the biggest idiot in the room. "If you had actually used your brain for half a second, you might've stopped him—but no." He let out a sharp exhale, shaking his head in disbelief. "You just had to play hero, didn't you?" His words dripped with sarcasm, but beneath it was clear frustration. Watching his counterpart make such an obvious mistake was almost physically painful.
"I won't ask again," the bodyguard said, his voice harder this time. "Why did you try to assassinate the president?"
"He had to be stopped," Hitoshi muttered, his voice hollow. "He—he cou—he c-couldn't be allowed to take that position."
"Then you should've worked on your aim," the bodyguard remarked casually.
"I can't be the only one who thinks it's weird for a bodyguard to say something like that, right?" Itsuka asked, feeling unsettled by Izuku's bodyguard's nonchalant attitude toward his boss's failed assassination.
"But he's not wrong, though," Setsuna said with a casual shrug, completely unfazed. "If you get one shot at someone, you better make it count—or spend the rest of your life regretting it."
Itsuka turned to her in disbelief. "That's... a really messed-up way to look at it."
Setsuna smirked. "Maybe. But tell me I'm wrong."
Itsuka had no response to that.
"No, no, no! You have to listen to me!" Hitoshi pleaded, desperation creeping into his voice. He suddenly realized his bag was still strapped to him. "I—I worked for him. I was his campaign manager. Izuku Midoriya is not what he seems!"
Frantically, he pulled out a photograph and shoved it in the bodyguard's face.
Everyone in the audience was fixated on the screen, anticipation thick in the air. Whatever was in that picture had to be important—and when the image finally appeared, it did not disappoint.
The image showed Izuku chilling with the League of Villains, casually chatting with them in what was unmistakably their hideout.
Gasps rippled through the crowd, their expressions ranging from curiosity to shock, disbelief, and even satisfaction.
"Hahaha! Amazing! This is amazing!" Shigaraki burst into manic laughter, his shoulders shaking as he reveled in the chaos unfolding before him. With a wicked grin, he turned to Izuku, eyes gleaming with twisted amusement. "Well? What do you have to say now, hero brat? Looks like you're one of us after all!"
Izuku, however, remained utterly unfazed. He merely shrugged, his expression as neutral as ever. "Sure. It's whatever, I guess."
That simple, indifferent response sucked the excitement right out of Shigaraki, like air being let out of a balloon. His grin faltered, his eye twitched, and he let out a frustrated growl. "Tch. You're no fun," he grumbled, crossing his arms and muttering curses under his breath.
"Oh my god," the bodyguard whispered, taking the picture with a trembling hand.
Hope flickered back into Hitoshi's eyes—until the bodyguard's next words shattered it completely.
"This would have been a terrible revelation... if I didn't already know about it."
Hitoshi barely had time to process what he'd just heard before he caught the glint of silver and a sharp pain tore through his throat.
Shinso winced as he watched the screen, his stomach twisting at the gruesome sight of his counterpart's throat being slit. A cold shiver ran down his spine—it didn't matter that it wasn't him; seeing himself die so brutally was something he could never have prepared for.
Beside him, his parents averted their eyes, their faces pale and rigid. They didn't speak, didn't even react beyond the way their hands clenched into trembling fists. The sheer horror of watching their son—even if it wasn't truly him—meet such a brutal end was too much to process.
He staggered, clutching at the wound, blood gushing between his fingers. His vision blurred, but before the darkness fully took him, his gaze flickered toward the far corner of the room—where he saw Giran's lifeless body sprawled on the floor.
"Well, that was a disaster," Dabi drawled, a smirk tugging at his lips as he turned to Giran. "Looks like your grand revenge plan crashed and burned spectacularly." He let out a low chuckle. "The idiot you handed all that dirt to turned out to be a total moron, and to top it off, you got taken out right after. Honestly, for a guy who prides himself on information gathering, you're looking pretty damn incompetent right now."
Giran's glare was sharp enough to cut steel, but he held his tongue. As much as he wanted to snap back, he knew he had nothing on Dabi. No leverage, no dirt, not even the faintest clue about his past. No matter how much he'd dug, the guy remained a ghost. And that fact irritated Giran more than he cared to admit.
Slowly, he turned back to the bodyguard, his mind struggling to make sense of what was happening. His breath hitched as he watched the man's skin begin to melt away, revealing blond hair beneath the disguise.
But Hitoshi never got the chance to see anything more.
As the last of his strength faded, the final words he heard sent a chill through his dying body.
"It's a shame I don't have more time to play stabby-stab with you."
Then, everything went dark.
"Well, that's the end of the line for my counterpart, I guess," Shinso murmured, exhaling a weary sigh. His gaze lingered on the screen for a moment longer before he shook his head. "He was reckless, sure, but... I can't help but feel bad for him. He was trying to do the right thing, and in the end, it cost him his life."
As Shinso mourned the fate of his alternate self, someone on the villain's side of the auditorium was practically vibrating with excitement.
"That was me! That was me!" Himiko squealed, bouncing on her feet like a child on a sugar rush. Her eyes sparkled with glee as she clapped her hands together. "That means I'm working with Izu-kun in this world! How fun!"
Then, her expression turned dreamy—almost wistful—as she tilted her head. "I wonder if he'll let me stab him," she mused aloud. "Or at least let me suck some of his blood..."
The dangerous glint in her eyes sent an immediate chill down Izuku's spine. Sitting across the room, he stiffened, resisting the urge to shift away despite the distance between them.
The scene shifted once more, revealing an aerial view of the Hero Public Safety Commission headquarters in Tokyo.
On the topmost floor, the board members were gathered in a sleek conference room. At the head of the table sat Izuku Midoriya, the newly appointed president of the HPSC. He gazed out the window, his expression unreadable, while a barber meticulously trimmed his hair.
"Oh, this is it! We're about to get Midoriya's villain speech!" Kaminari said, practically buzzing with excitement.
Jiro shot him a look, her brow furrowing. "And why, exactly, are you so hyped about that?" she asked, crossing her arms. "More importantly, what makes you think he's even going to give a villain speech?"
Kaminari gestured at the screen like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Come on! All the signs are there! The big shots are gathered in one room, all sizing him up, and meanwhile, Midoriya is just chilling, getting a damn haircut like he couldn't care less. That's classic villain speech setup!"
Jiro stared at him for a moment before sighing. "Alright, buddy, if you say so," she muttered, deciding it wasn't worth arguing over.
The door swung open without so much as a knock, and the last board member strolled in, taking his seat without ceremony. "Sorry I'm late, Mr. President. Had a little crisis at work," he said, though his tone carried no real apology.
"Wow, talk about rude," Himiko huffed, crossing her arms in an exaggerated pout. But just as quickly, a wide grin stretched across her face, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "I really hope Izu-kun lets me stab him!" she added, her voice practically dripping with anticipation.
Geten side-eyed her, unimpressed. "That green-haired brat must be out of his damn mind if he willingly keeps someone likeyouaround," he muttered, watching her warily.
"It's no problem," Izuku dismissed smoothly before giving the barber a quiet instruction. "A little more off the top." Then, turning his attention back to the board, he gestured for them to continue. "You were saying?"
All for One let out a wistful sigh as he watched Midoriya on the screen. Though he had no intention of relinquishing his throne anytime soon, he couldn't deny the potential he saw in the boy. In another life, under different circumstances, Midoriya might have made for a worthy successor.
"We were saying,PresidentMidoriya," one of the board members sneered, putting heavy emphasis on the title, "that we don't care who sits in that chair. A person with a quirk, a quirkless man, or hell, even a goddamn rat—it makes no difference. We've been running the HPSC long before these so-called elections, and you'll find that we're still running it now."
"Hawks, is this really how the HPSC operates, or is this just a byproduct of it being an alternate reality?" Momo asked, turning to the winged hero with a frown.
Hawks let out a sigh, shrugging helplessly. "Honestly? I have no idea. I've never had to sit through one of these meetings, and I doubt I could survive one without a gun to my head," he added with a dry chuckle. Then, with a more serious expression, he continued, "Jokes aside, this might be worth looking into. If the management of heroes is really in the hands of a bunch of selfish assholes, that's a serious problem."
"In that case, allow me to offer my assistance," Nezu chimed in, his ever-present smile carrying an unsettling eagerness. "I have several well-prepared strategies that could greatly aid your investigation."
Hawks blinked, suddenly feeling like he'd just walked into a trap. "...Sure," he said, dragging out the word before abruptly cutting himself off, deciding it was best not to drag this subject for now.
Izuku slowly turned his chair, facing the board directly for the first time. His emerald eyes were cold and calculating as he picked up a hand mirror from the table.
"Does he speak for everyone here?" he asked, his voice calm but firm.
A few murmurs of agreement rippled through the room.
Izuku turned away again, adjusting the mirror as the barber continued his work. "Good," he said evenly. "I think it's important to be clear."
"Hmm… guys, I have a bad feeling about this," Ochako muttered, her eyes narrowing as she picked up on the ominous shift in the atmosphere radiating from the screen.
Meanwhile, All for One, who immediately recognized the gleam in on-screen Midoriya's eyes, couldn't help but grin. "Oh, on the contrary," he said, his voice brimming with anticipation. "I believe what comes next is going to be nothing short of spectacular."
Then, with deliberate slowness, he lifted the mirror slightly. "Raise your hand if he speaks for you."
Hands shot up around the table—all except for three.
A second later, the sharp hiss of suppressed gunfire filled the room. One by one, the board members who had raised their hands collapsed, their bodies slumping onto the table or hitting the floor with dull thuds. Blood splattered across the polished wood, the rich mahogany now stained with their final moments.
A heavy silence settled over the room, broken only by the slow, deliberate sound of All for One clapping, a wide grin stretching across his face.
"Amazing! Simply amazing!" he praised, his voice brimming with admiration. "Such a decisive and ruthless elimination of a potential obstacle—truly commendable."
His gaze shifted to Izuku, who instinctively averted his eyes. All for One chuckled, shaking his head. "The boy is utterly wasted on the side of the heroes," he mused. "With the right guidance, he could have been a magnificent pawn… no, perhaps even my right-hand man." A wistful sigh escaped him before his expression darkened slightly. "What a shame Yagi got his filthy, self-righteous hands on him first. Such a tragic waste of potential."
The three remaining board members sat frozen in horror, their faces pale, their hands trembling.
The barber, now visibly shaking, swallowed hard. "I-Is that... enough off the top?" he stammered.
Izuku turned his chair one last time, his signature smile creeping onto his face as he met the wide-eyed stares of the survivors.
"I don't know," he mused lightly. Then, tilting his head, he asked with an amused lilt, "Is it?"
Immediately, the three board members launched into frantic praise of his haircut, their voices laced with forced enthusiasm.
"Well, at least he's got a sense of humor," Dabi said with a smirk, leaning back casually. "That already makes him better than the so-called leader we're stuck with."
"Agreed," Mr. Compress added smoothly. "Serving under someone like him actually sounds rather appealing."
"Shut up!" Shigaraki snapped, his crimson eyes burning with irritation as he glared at the two. "There's nothing special about that brat! I bet Sensei had a hand in getting him that position—there's no way he pulled it off on his own!"
"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Mr. Compress mused, amusement lacing his voice.
All for One's presence immediately grew heavier, his tone low and deliberate as he addressed him. "And what exactly do you mean by that, Atsuhiro Sako?"
The deliberate use of his real name sent a clear message, but Mr. Compress merely chuckled, unfazed. "Nothing that should offend you, real boss," he said smoothly, while a vein twitched on Shigaraki's forehead. "I just don't believe that the man we're watching on screen would serve under anyone without having at least three different plans to overthrow them."
The grin on All for One's face slowly faded, his amusement giving way to contemplation as he fell into deep thought.
Izuku chuckled softly, setting the mirror down before rising from his seat. He strolled toward a nearby counter, reaching for a sleek, expensive-looking bottle. "Seems like the perfect time for a drink," he mused, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. "And a cold, calculated speech with sinister overtones."
He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, his gaze distant. "A speech about politics... about order... brotherhood... power." But then, with a shake of his head, he dismissed the thought.
"Thank fucking god!" Bakugo scoffed, crossing his arms. "At least he's not standing around, rambling about some grand evil master plan like every other dumbass villain out there." He smirked. "That alone makes him ten times better than most of the idiots on the other side of this barrier."
His words instantly earned him a chorus of glares from the villain's section, but Bakugo, as always, couldn't care less as he simply flipped them off, earning a smack in the head from his mother.
Glass in hand, he walked toward the window, looking out over the sprawling city below. Behind him, a silent crew in black suits entered the room, efficiently clearing away the bodies and wiping away any trace of what had just transpired.
"I'm sorry, brother, but that look doesn't suit you," Eri said softly, shifting a little closer to him. "It kind of makes you look like..." She trailed off, casting a brief glance at Overhaul, who was gloating in Re-Destro's face, ranting about how someone without a Quirk had risen so far and was now in a position to control those who did.
Izuku chuckled, easily picking up on what she meant. "Yeah, I know," he said, offering her a reassuring smile as he gently rubbed her shoulder. "I don't think it suits me either."
Reaching into his pocket, Izuku pulled out his phone. The screen lit up, revealing a photo—him seated on a throne, while All For One and Shigaraki lay lifeless at his feet.
A heavy silence settled over the room once more, but this time, all eyes on the villains' side were glued to the screen, wide with shock. None looked more shaken than Re-Destro, whose entire world seemed to be crumbling before him. A Quirkless man—someone he would have never deemed a threat—had just taken down not only Shigaraki, their so-called new leader, but also All for One, the very embodiment of terror in the underworld.
The implications of what he had just witnessed sent a shiver down his spine. Everything he believed about strength, power, and the natural order had just been flipped on its head. And worse still, a gnawing doubt began to take root in his heart. Had he placed his faith in the wrong man? Was Shigaraki truly the leader he had hoped for—the one destined to fulfill his father's dream of a liberated society, where individuals were free to wield their Quirks without restraint?
Meanwhile, Shigaraki was seething. His nails dug harshly into his already raw neck as he muttered curse after curse, vowing to turn Izuku to dust the moment they were free from this place. The smug grin on Mr. Compress's face and Dabi's raucous laughter only fueled his fury, pushing his temper to the brink.
All for One, however, remained silent, his expression unreadable. Then, with an exhale, he accepted an undeniable truth—any ambitious person he personally trained would, sooner or later, try to betray him. And, if he was being honest, he would be disappointed if they didn't. But that didn't mean he would take this humiliation lightly. The thought of some Quirkless street rat being the one to end him, unraveling a century of meticulous planning, was beyond infuriating. So rather than acknowledge it, he simply resolved to make this Midoriya suffer in his counterpart's place, dismissing the version of himself on screen as nothing more than an inferior failure.
On the heroes' side, it was All Might who couldn't tear his eyes away from the screen. His mind raced, trying to piece together every possible explanation for how Izuku's alternate self had accomplished such an impossible feat. But no matter how hard he searched for an answer, none came. And the more he thought about it, the more unsettling the mystery became.
"But speeches are for campaigning," he murmured, switching off the screen. He stared at his reflection in the dark liquid of his drink, a dark sinister smile tugging at his lips.
"Now is the time for action."
Then the screen turned black.
"So, what are your thoughts?" Nezu asked.
"It started off good and wholesome… then took a drastic nosedive in the middle," Ochako said.
"My counterpart died," Shinso stated flatly. "And quite stupidly, at that."
"I don't think it was as stupid as you're making it out to be," Izuku countered, a small chuckle escaping him when Shinso turned a deadpan stare his way. "Think about it— even if your counterpart had taken the evidence to someone, what guarantee was there that they would have actually believed him? My counterpart had already built up goodwill and a solid reputation with the public. It would've been difficult to convince people otherwise."
"Not to mention," Momo chimed in, "we don't know the exact timeline of the elections, but based on what we saw, it didn't seem like your counterpart had much time to act. From his perspective, an assassination might have been the only viable option."
"Huh. When you put it like that, I guess he wasn't as much of a dumbass as I thought," Shinso admitted, rubbing the back of his head.
"We learned that the green-haired brat is better at being a villain without a Quirk than our so-called leader is with one," Dabi remarked, completely unfazed by the murderous glare Shigaraki was sending his way.
"Just because Midoriya's counterpart is good at being a villain doesn't mean our Midoriya has to follow the same path," Itsuka shot back with a huff. "If anything, it just proves how incompetent you all are at being villains."
Dabi's lips curled into a cruel smile. "Is that so? If I remember correctly, if Mustard hadn't been such a moron, you and the rest of your little classmates would be dead by now." His grin widened as he watched the color drain from their faces, the mention of that night at summer camp clearly hitting a nerve. "Shame I was busy with Eraserhead back then. Otherwise, I would've finished the job myself."
Itsuka stiffened, but after a moment, she forced herself to stand tall, glaring at him defiantly. "Well, it's a shame you didn't," she snapped. "Because next time, we won't give you the chance!"
Her classmates rallied behind her, cheering in support, but Dabi simply turned away, already losing interest. He knew the next time the League struck, this girl and her little friends wouldn't even be a factor on the battlefield.
"Are we even sure that Izu's counterpart is the villain here?" Eri asked, tilting her head. She immediately noticed the questioning glances sent her way.
"I mean, sure, he was associated with the League, but that could've just been a means to an end—to reach the position of HPSC president," she explained with a small shrug. "After all, he did take down All for One and Shigaraki, didn't he?"
"But he also killed everyone in that meeting room," Mina countered, her brows furrowing. "Not to mention Shinso's counterpart and that old guy on the villains' side."
"True," Eri acknowledged, nodding. "But that still puts him in a grey area. From what we've seen, he hasn't killed any innocent people."
Several people frowned at that, but Eri continued, oblivious to their expressions. "Like I said, we don't know enough to outright label him as a villain. So maybe we should stop jumping to conclusions until we do."
With that, the discussion came to an end, and everyone moved on to the next universe.
To be continued...
Source: Rick and Morty, Season 3, Episode 7 (2017)